


Pride Goeth

by sabinelagrande



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Crossgen, Dark, Dirty Talk, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-22
Updated: 2006-09-22
Packaged: 2017-10-04 11:26:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all comes down to Ron, Lucius, and a chessboard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pride Goeth

Ron wasn't sure how long he'd been in the tiny, perpetually darkened room; but when he was dragged out, his legs didn't seem to want to hold him anymore.

The hot, clammy hands holding him dropped him unceremoniously on a damned hard stone floor and whipped off his blindfold. "Ahh, Master Weasley," a too-familiar voice drawled. Ron didn't look up; he just knew it was going to be Lucius fucking Malfoy. Maybe if he kept his eyes on the nice, cool floor, he'd be alright.

It wasn't to be. A silent spell lifted him off his feet and left him to dangle like a marrionette in front of, because it just wasn't his day, Lucius Malfoy. Lucius, immaculately dressed as if for the cold, swished his wand at him, moving him like a puppeteer to a hard straight-backed chair.

"I'm sorry that you didn't get a chance to experience the usual charms of Malfoy Manor," he said, fastidiously pulling at the cuffs of his sleeves. "Unfortunately, we're in a bit of a hurry today. You see, the Manor is- or was- Unplottable, but I believe my ungrateful offspring has ruined that for us." If he could have, Ron would have smiled; served him bloody well right. "We will be leaving shortly, but you, I'm afraid, will not be accompanying us."

Lucius stood to pace the room which, now that Ron looked up, was a smallish study with horribly ugly furnishings. "I'm confident that you have seen nothing here that will be of any aid to your cause, and anyway, this house will be swarming with Aurors within the day," he admitted, with a twinge of regret. "Nor are you any use to us- did you know your dear friend Harry wouldn't come for you? Seems rather cruel, if you ask me." Ron felt a small surge of pride at that revelation. He'd screamed at Harry not to come for him when he was taken, and it was about damn time that Harry started listening. "So, I am giving you a choice."

"Of course, I can kill you now. That is always an option, though a very boring one." Lucius sighed, flicking his hair ever so slightly. Ron hoped that he was amusing himself with this little charade. He'd pretty much decided that he'd rather get a quick Avada than watch Lucius prance for another minute.

"But I have a better idea. I'm sure you don't know that is traditional that a man condemned to die be allowed to play the Reaper for his life. I'm not much of a reaper; but you, I hear, are quite the chess player." He stopped his pacing and turned to face Ron. "And if I have one sin, Weasley, it is pride."

He indicated the chess set in the corner. "Beat me, and you can go free." Lucius muttered a few words and tapped a nearby vase; Ron knew it must have been a Portkey.

"And what if I lose?" Ron rasped. Lucius gave him a feral smile.

"When you lose," he said, lowering his voice, "we shall see."

Moved by pride and the last ounces of his strength, he managed to walk over and seat himself in front of the board.

To his surprise, Ron realized that the chessmen were inert. "My set have picked up the unfortunate habit of abetting my opponents," Lucius said, reading his expression. "I'm sure you still remember how all the pieces move." He waved his hand somewhat grandly at the board. "Your move."

Lucius took an early lead. His rash playing cost him first a bishop, and then a rook, and his attack softened. It seemed Ron had the upper hand.

"You know," Lucius said, as Ron's hand wavered over his knight, "I've been thinking about what I'm going to do with you after I win. I think I will take you with me, after all." Ron clacked the knight harshly onto the board; Lucius took the opportunity to take a pawn. "I think you'd do perfectly as my personal slave." He knew his gambit was paying off when Ron blanched.

A few more quick moves, and the board was again under Lucius's control. "I think you'd look lovely in a collar, wouldn't you agree?" A deep blush rose to Ron's cheeks. "But you'd look even lovelier in my bed." At that, Ron overturned his bishop.

"You can resign any time you like, Weasley," Lucius told him. Ron willed himself not to listen, shaking his head and focusing on the game.

"You'll break easily," Lucius said, taking Ron's knight. "The proud ones always do." He broke off, as Ron took two more pawns in a row. "You're probably half hard just thinking about it." Ron's blush reached the very tips of his ears, telling Lucius he probably wasn't half wrong. That was certainly an interesting development.

The game wore on, Lucius's torments flaring as Ron improved and waning when he regained the upper hand.

"You are going to be my own personal slut, do you know that?" Ron started to move, but stopped, unsure. "I'm going to use you in ways you could never even dream of." He moved, and Lucius swept up his other knight.

Finally, he saw his opening; if Weasley didn't catch on, the game was his in two moves. "And every time I take you, you'll know that it's your own fault that I own you."

"Checkmate," said Ron, looking Lucius straight in the eyes.

"You lie." Lucius's face was ugly with rage. He was, of course, telling the truth- an attack from behind that Lucius had never even seen coming.

He took a moment to regain his composure. "You are free to go," he told Ron, pulling the boy's wand from the folds of his robes and handing it to him. Ron took it, brandishing it at him. Lucius lazily put his hands in the air. "I bow to your superior sportsmanship. Happy? Now go."

Ron lunged for the Portkey. He landed almost on top of it, expecting to feel the weird vertigo of the transport. But instead, all he heard was the sickening crunch of broken pottery.

"Then again, I'm afraid fair play never was one of my virtues."


End file.
